Parallel Lines
by Mirelle Light
Summary: The Pokemon world isn't always cheery. A girl suffering from anxiety; a boy suffering from emotional loss. Both feel disjointed and out of place in the world. But can they, along with their Pokemon, find rest? A story about two people with tragic pasts, and their striving to find true happiness.
1. Chapter 1 - A Cold Night's Memory

_Author's Note: Hello~ Thank you for stopping in to read my story. This is an idea I've had on my mind for about a few months now. But I could never seem to truly get it out the way I wanted until now. I hope you enjoy, and please feel free to review and critique. Feedback always makes me happy, and it gives me ways to improve my writing. With that, I hope you like this chapter. :)_

* * *

 _Chapter One  
_

 _A cold night's memory._

* * *

A bell chimes as my father and I exit the gift shop on the corner of Viridian City's small shopping strip. The store owner, a large man with red, rosy cheeks, smiles as we leave, exchanging hearty laughter and farewells with my father before the door clicks closed. The night is cold. My breath creates fog as it hits the chill in the air. But even in the cold, as I stuff my gloved hands into my coat pockets, there is a certain warmth that resonates deep within me.

My father continues to laugh for a short while after we leave. We walk along the sidewalk, beneath the city's street lights and the illuminated signs of shops that are sure to be closing soon. Up above, the stars are invisible, the sheen of man-made lights taking their place beneath the pitch black sky. But I know that when we arrive back at Pallet Town, the stars will be so clear and bright that the sky will be lit up from end to end.

"That was fun."

My father's voice seems to be fluttering, just like his laughs before. He is happy. And so am I. I nod at his words, smiling, blowing streams of hot air into the cold, as I let out a long, contended sigh.

"I hope you like your gift."

"Like it? I love it!" He grins. "I always love chocolate!"

I feel a laugh rising within me as I turn to look at his face, which is lit up almost like a child's. He grabs the one-dollar Buneary-shaped chocolate bar I bought him out of his pocket, unwraps it, and takes a large bite. Then, his mouth full of it, turns to me and grins again. I smile hesitantly.

"It was only a dollar, and I don't have that much to get you anything more...expensive. Are you sure you like it?"

"You know that doesn't matter to me, sweetheart. Anything you get me makes me happy. It's the thought that counts."

I smile again. But this time, without hesitation.

We continue walking. It's about a thirty minute walk back to Pallet Town, but it feels like half of that. My father and I talk and laugh with each other, making the time pass quickly. The kid deep down within me, even at eighteen years of age, feels like she's released every time I'm with him. It's as though all of my problems melt away. Fears and anxieties, problems at home with my mother...everything—gone. If only I could be together with him all the time. If only life were that simple.

We reach the hill, the telltale lookout that towers above all of Pallet. I look out over the small town, where yellow lights shine through kitchen windows, and smoke rises from several chimneys. The glow of the full moon is so bright that the entire town seems to be illuminated.

"Looks like we're here."

For the first time since the day began for us, my father's voice is sad. I stand beside him, watching the old-age crease beneath his eyes as he talks. Being with him so often, I hadn't noticed it much before. Or the tiny patches of gray that sprout from his hair and brows. Seeing it now, under the light of the night sky, it makes me sad, somehow. Maybe because we're about to go our separate ways.

"It was great seeing you again, Dad." I bite my lip.

"It was great seeing you too, sweetheart. And thank you for my birthday gift."

"You're welcome."

We both seem to be hesitating. And we both know why. Because once we leave the safety of our weekend visit, I will return home to an angry mother and nonchalant stepfather in an uprooted household, and my father will go back to a lonely apartment in Pewter City.

"Well, I should probably be going now. Give me a hug."

I turn to him and hug him as tightly as I possibly can. I don't know why. It just feels like I should. We've been through this many times, and each time we have the same feelings of grief about returning to our separate lives. I hope with everything in me that my father knows, just how much I love him.

I pull away, and he does the same. Then, he enlarges a pokeball and throws it. Bright white beams out from inside as his bird Pokemon fades into view. The Pidgeot coos, then turns to look over at me. I smile.

"Have a safe trip," I tell him.

My father climbs up onto Pidgeot's back, then holds up a thumbs up, grinning. "I'm always safe!"

I laugh. It's bittersweet, but somehow my father's words and carefree actions always seem to cheer me up.

I watch as the bird Pokemon lowers itself for a moment, getting a grip on the ground. My father turns to look at me, and for a moment, I see sadness in his face. But it's for a split second, because in the next moment he has that same goofy smile as before. Pidgeot rears back, and then finally, with a gust that nearly knocks me back, takes off into the air. The trees shake as the large Pokemon flies above. And slowly, it disappears into the sky.

I let out a sigh, but inside, I feel warmth building up again. Two weeks more.

I head home—I walk carefully down the slope of the hill, towards my parent's house, hopeful, faithful, for the two weeks to quickly come to a close. I didn't know. If I had known, I would have stopped him. But I didn't.

It never would have occurred to me. That I would never see my father again.


	2. Chapter 2 - Parallel Lines

_Author's Note: This chapter seemed to flow pretty quickly. This is a scene I had originally thought out in my mind a while back, which had sparked the idea for the story. There are a few things I feel I should point out though. There are a few themes in this chapter, somewhat philosophical/spiritual. I tried to keep it muted, but I presented them as things that some people truly do ponder and think about when loved ones pass away. Just thought I'd give a small note before reading, so it doesn't come as a surprise to some people. With that, I hope you enjoy the chapter. :)  
_

* * *

 _Chapter Two_

 _Parallel lines._

* * *

I walk the snowy path through Viridian Forest with slow, deliberate steps. It's cold. I can feel the flush on my face from the bitter chill, not at all helped by the falling snow. The sky is white as it falls, covering the tracks my boots make, their soft _crunch_ through the ice seeming louder in the silence. With each step I take, it feels like I am getting closer to a different, scary perspective—one I'm not sure I am willing to accept.

The trees, stripped of their leaves, hang low as the snow builds. I rub my arms with my gloves, then stuff them back into my pockets. Ahead of me, the trees are thinning, and I can see an opening through the spaces between their branches. Something inside of me churns. I squeeze my hands into fists in the warmth of my coat. Then, arriving at the edge of the trees, I step out into the open space, a clearing.

The clearing is large. I hesitate for a moment, feeling the same churning as before—remembering. I almost feel naked stepping out of the closeness of the woods, into...this. Even so, I start walking. In the distance, many faded, gray headstones protrude from the ground. The site is littered with them. Hundreds probably. It doesn't really hit me until I approach close enough to see their dark, engraved words. My father lies here.

The graveyard resonates with a hushed presence. The fall of snow seems to mute everything, even the dread I feel. I bite my lip, passing through the maze of tombstones until I find the one with his name.

I stand in front of it, staring. Then I run my hand across the words. Slowly. Unsure of everything I'm feeling. Part of me wonders why I came, especially after a year of refusing to visit. Of refusing to accept the inevitable truth. Though the despair I felt a year ago has long since passed, there is still a lingering sadness. The feeling of knowing a person you loved is no longer able to eat with you, to share moments with you. There's a space inside, something no one can seem to fill.

The stone is cold, as though it had turned to ice. As to be expected. It's chilly after all—not unlike the last day I saw him.

For a split second, along with this thought, the image of my father's carefree smile flashes in my mind, as if Arceus were toying with me. It causes something to cut deep in my heart. My eyes suddenly begin to blur. And before I am able to stop it, or even realize what I'm doing, tears drip down my face.

I hadn't thought I would feel this way anymore—I'd believed my grieving was over. But the sudden tremble of my lips proves that to have been a false assumption. Memories flood my mind like the very first day I found out—all of the memories from the days we laughed and talked and were together. The bitterness of knowing there's no way to rewind time, along with the sweetness and fondness for the cherished times we'd had. The quiet streams of tears become whimpering cries, which cut sharply into the silence. The whimpers become sobs. And soon, it's uncontrollable.

I cry like this for a long time, bitterly. My hand grips the top of the headstone so hard that my knuckles turn white. I cry, until my sobs become whimpers, and fade away into quiet streams of tears. And finally, when I've exhausted every possible tear, silence.

I haven't felt like this for an entire year. Miserable, despairing. I wipe my face and stuff my hand back into my pocket. It's frigid and trembling, along with most of my body. _I should probably head back..._

I turn to leave. But as I start to walk, I notice something in my side vision, behind me—a dark figure. I look over, realizing with a somewhat embarrassed flush that I had not been alone. Or rather, that someone had approached during my meltdown.

It's a boy who looks a little older than me. He has thick, inky black hair that contrasts strongly against the translucent-white snow. His hands, like mine, are stuffed in his pockets. Despite the commotion I'd made just moments before, he isn't looking at me. Instead, his eyes seem to bear down strongly into the tombstone in front of him.

I swallow, embarrassed. My face feels hot from the flush that is still on my cheeks. I turn and walk quickly out of the row of graves towards the forest, my head pointed at the ground as I try to hide my expression. But a soft voice behind me, low, yet not too low, makes me pause.

"I'm sure you will be reunited someday."

A feeling of sharp warmth suddenly resonates inside me. I turn to look at the boy. He is still watching the grave, standing stiffly.

I don't know what to say. Part of me wants to believe it. But the other part of me isn't sure. Even so, I smile. It's not much of a smile, considering the pain I still feel, but it's there.

"Thank you."

The boy nods, but his gaze at the headstone doesn't change. He seems to be lost in thought. At his side, something white moves. I watch it for a while, confused, but it's too difficult to see from the distance.

I watch him for a moment, trying to grasp for something equally kind to say in return, out of courtesy. After a moment of thought, I say, "And I'm sure you will too."

I expect he will either say a thank you, or nod his head, but instead he remains still. After a moment of watching, and seeing his reaction not change, I start to turn and walk away.

"If only that were true," he finally says.

I stop. Despite me not being sure of whether what he said before was true or not, it's a bit confusing that someone would tell me something that they don't believe themselves. I wipe the remnants of moisture from my eyes, then question him. "If only it were true?"

He doesn't respond to that. Instead, he looks up at me from the tombstone for the very first time. Then to my surprise, asks, "What's your name?"

"Noel," I answer.

"Liam."

His head turns back to look at the tombstone. From what I've seen of him so far, he seems to be in more pain than he's letting on. Though, it's none of my business what a stranger keeps to themselves, especially at a grave site. _He would probably be offended if I asked him more in-depth about what's troubling him,_ I note.

Liam seems to read my thoughts. "To answer your question...I guess the simplest way to say it is, I'm not a good person."

I watch him, confused.

"There are two types of people," he continues. "Those who see their loved ones again...and those who don't."

Realization suddenly hits me.

"You seem like a good person, Noel. You're not like me."

For the first time that morning, I feel like my focus has shifted. I still feel pain, but it's not for myself this time. He seems like the kind of person who is open—more open than I had initially believed. So, risking a backlash, I decide to ask another question, fueled by my curiosity.

"If you don't mind me asking...what happened? I mean, why you're here. Or, actually, I mean... If you're grieving. Or..." As I spend the next few seconds fumbling over my words, I feel embarrassment that it doesn't seem to be coming out the way I had originally planned.

He doesn't seem to mind though. "You see these tombstones?"

He points to the row in front of him. I nod. And then to my surprise, he begins pointing at the graves in front of him, from left to right, starting at the leftmost one.

"My mother... My older brother. My sister. My father. My younger sister. My other brother. My best friend. My brother's fiance."

As he recites the names, my eyes widen. Then sickness churns in my stomach. I feel like I'm about to vomit. When he reaches the rightmost grave, he moves to the next row. I listen to each name, to the respectable lowness of his voice. It takes all my strength to keep the sickness from bubbling over.

"The next six are classmates. That's my grandmother... And my grandfather. My friend. One of my other friends. Another classmate..."

With every name, I keep expecting—hoping—for it to end. For the number of people to stop at twenty, or thirty. Maybe thirty-five? But it doesn't seem to end. My face feels void of blood, as though it has paled. I continue listening, though the discomfort inside is increasing with each passing second. What on earth had happened to him...?

He finally reaches the last person, then stops. Then, he turns his gaze back to the grave he had been standing in front of before.

"My younger sister. She...didn't deserve to die." For the first time since meeting him, he seems as though he's about to cry. But after a moment of silence, he seems to collect himself. "None of them did."

I don't say anything. Or rather, I can't. The words don't seem to be coming.

"It's dedicated to the sinking of Kyogre. This entire section."

"K...Kyogre?" I finally manage to say.

"A luxury ship."

"Oh."

I turn to look at the section of graves. Further down, behind him, are even more. Hundreds. Maybe a few thousand. Come to think of it, I do remember seeing something on the news several years ago, about a ship from Pallet that had capsized on the way to some island. But my memory doesn't allow me to remember all of the details.

"Usually at cemeteries like this, they're organized by family name. And many of the other graves are. But..." He smiles, sadly. "Since everyone from the ship has been buried here, and because I didn't have anyone left to really vouch for me or stand in my place... I asked them to put everyone together here, since I was of age... Makes it easier to visit everyone."

"...Do you come here often?" I ask, looking at the graves, seeing how well taken care of they are.

"When it first happened, I would come every other weekend. Then, once a month. Now, I do it once a year. It's been seven years."

"If you don't mind me asking...how old are you?"

"Twenty-five. I was eighteen when it happened."

I nod. Though, he certainly doesn't look twenty-five. He looks a lot younger, as though he were eighteen or nineteen.

An awkward silence passes between us. I don't know what else to say. Somehow, a simple, "I'm sorry for your loss" doesn't seem like it will cut it. He kneels down in front of his sister's grave for a moment. Behind the gray headstone, I can't see his face, but I have a feeling he is most likely closing his eyes, praying. After a moment or so, he rises again. Then turns to me, seeming to be more collected than before.

"Actually...I could ask you the same thing. Why are you grieving?"

I turn and look to the side, where my father's grave is. "My father. He passed away a year ago."

"...I'm sorry."

"They say he had a weak heart. He smoked a lot." I bite my lip, and my gaze averts to the ground. "He quit smoking about a few weeks before he died. Said he was going to go on a detox diet... I don't know if he knew then, but he probably did."

"I'm really sorry for your loss..."

I nod. "I'll be okay."

Silence passes between us again. It doesn't seem to feel awkward this time. Perhaps because we as strangers are slowly getting used to each other. I notice something move near his feet again, something white. It looks like a string of snow, or feathers...or fur, moving back and forth. But when I turn my head to look at it, it seems to stop.

Liam seems to notice my shifting gaze. He looks down, where the white object moves again. I squint my eyes against the blinding snow. It continues moving, waving back and forth. Then, a small white head pokes up into view. Two light blue eyes gaze at me from behind a frock of pale, white-blue fur. Liam smiles.

"I see you've noticed. This is Mage."

"Mage?"

It's a Pokemon I have never seen before. Or is it? It looks somewhat like a Vulpix, but its coloring is certainly off. It watches me curiously, its blue eyes not blinking.

"What kind of Pokemon is that?" I ask.

"Oh, him?" Liam laughs, to my surprise." He's a Vulpix. But from Alola."

"Alola?"

He seems surprised that I don't know. Then, as if realizing something, says, "It's a region with a lot of tropical Pokemon. There are some Pokemon there, like Mage here, that have different forms from their Kanto counterparts. I had almost forgotten the people here in Kanto aren't always familiar with it."

I nod. "I didn't know that."

I watch the ice fox closely. Its tail fur seems to be fluffier and lighter in density than the fur of the many Vulpix I've always seen scampering about.

"He's beautiful," I say.

"He is."

I smile. Despite what he said about himself, this person seems to be a good person. Anyone who could gather themselves together from terrible grief, and manage to laugh and talk kindly in the same span of time, has to have some sort of good-natured strength inside.

Mage continues to watch me with curious eyes from Liam's side. I start to wonder if I have accidental food remnants on me. But remembering I had been too sick to eat breakfast that morning, I quickly shake away that thought.

"I think he likes you."

"He does seem very interested in me," I respond.

Liam nods. "Odd, since he's usually very timid of strangers. He might sense you're not a dangerous person."

I notice Mage looking back and forth between us as we exchange words. He seems to understand, as all Pokemon do. I had never understood, how Pokemon seem to understand humans, yet we can't understand them. It's just yet another mystery of the Pokemon world.

"Would it be alright if I pet him?"

Liam seems startled at my question. He hesitates. "Well...I know what I said but... Even so, he's known to bite... But you can try it. If he likes you, he won't."

I nod, then proceed to move closer. Mage continues watching me. When I reach a certain point, he seems to realize what I'm doing; then jumps, and quickly hides behind Liam's legs.

Liam chuckles. "See? He's very timid."

I continue moving closer. I don't know why, but I'm determined now. I have never been the type of person to avoid a challenge when presented with one. Mage still watches me from behind Liam's legs. He seems to shrink back with each additional step I take. When I finally get close enough, but not too close, I kneel down. Then I hold out my hand and rub my fingers back and forth, cooing softly. Mage doesn't budge an inch.

Liam seems to be humored. "He does this to everyone. Don't worry."

I continue holding out my hand, still not giving up. "Mage, it's alright. You can come out. I won't hurt you."

Mage still doesn't budge. After a minute or so of attempting to entice him, I hesitantly give up. For now.

I stand to my feet again, then return my eyes to Liam. It's at this point that I notice just how dark his eyes are, almost as black as his hair. And how the whites of his eyes seem to be tinted pink, probably from earlier. I turn and look at the grave he is standing in front of. It has been decorated at the top edges with small, circular flower ornaments. Probably not living flowers, as they wouldn't survive in the cold. The graves beside hers' are decorated as well, each with flowers of a different color. I finally understand just how much he cares for them.

"Sarah Swift..."

He nods. "Yeah..."

Another silence passes. But it's soon cut off by his soft voice.

"Live each day with no expectation of tomorrow."

I look over at him.

"Because we never know when we'll take our last breath."

His words cut to my heart. I suddenly feel a determination growing within me. To help him, the same way he tried to encourage me. It isn't much, but I manage to find what I feel are the best words.

"I'm sure you will be reunited someday, with everyone you love."

Liam looks startled at me. But as he starts to open his mouth in what appears to be hesitation, he seems to change his mind. Instead, he smiles. "Thank you."

"You tried to encourage me, despite the grief you're going through. You still manage to laugh and talk with others, not holding bitterness because of your loss. And I even feel at peace after talking with you..." I smile, feeling suddenly warm inside. "To be honest, despite what you said earlier, I have no doubt in my mind that you, too, are a good person."

He seems shocked at my words. He looks at me for a while, as if he sees something on my face that he can't quite make out. Or as if he's in deep thought. Then, he looks away.

"Thank you."

We stand there for a little while longer, not seeming to know what to say at this point. But somehow, my sadness has melted away. I feel better than I had when I'd first arrived. Maybe not perfectly settled inside...but still, better. Happier. I glance at Liam from my side vision. He has his hands in his pockets, gazing into the distance. He seems to have a contended expression on his face. And somehow, I know that he feels the exact same way.

"I should probably get going," he finally says.

I nod. "Me too."

"It was nice meeting you, Noel."

"It was nice meeting you too."

I smile. Then, I turn to walk away. But just as I do so, something catches my arm.

"Uh... Wait." He pauses. "I work over at the small Poke Mart in Viridian City. Right when you first enter from Route 1. I just thought...if you ever need a friend, someone to talk to, you're welcome to drop by."

I smile at his words. "Thank you. I think I will."

Something crosses his face. I can't tell whether it's relief, or surprise, or a mixture of both.

We say our farewells. Then, we turn and head our separate ways. As I walk away, I feel wonderful. I feel like I've finally made a friend. Or a kind acquaintance, at least. _When was the last time I've made an actual friend...?_

The forest closes in around me as I leave the clearing. My steps seem to be even slower now than they were when I was first coming to the grave site. Inside, I'm dreading going back home. The last thing I want to see or hear after the events of this morning are my parents fighting again. But even so...I made a friend. And sometimes, that's all we ever really need.


End file.
